Of Roses and Smoke
by Jessy-Fran
Summary: MattXMello AU Fic. Mello is a superstar at the height of fame, Matt is a nobody. The fic is better then the summary, trust me! Rated T for later language. DISCONTINUED.
1. Batting Your Eyelashes

**Of Roses and Smoke**

"In other news, the relative newcomer to the music scene, Mello, has blitzed the charts with his single 'Second'…"

"And the winner for Best-Selling Album is… Mello for his album 'Mafia Lover'!"

"…and coming soon to the Apollo is Mello in his world-tour!"

The after-show buzz set in as soon as he stepped of the stage. The adrenaline pumped through him and Mello knew it had been a good show. He'd had the whole audience on their feet from beginning to end and they'd hung on every word he'd sung and every chord he'd strum. Mello knew what to say to make the teenage girls in the audience swoon. How to make the guys admire him, want to _be_ him.

And who wouldn't want to be Mello. He was a star. He knew it, his fans knew it, the whole damn world knew it. He had half of the music business wrapped around his little finger and he intended to keep it that way. If he asked for water then he'd instantly given the choice of at least five different types (all bottled and imported of course) or if he wanted a break from recording then he decided for how long, without any complaints.

Mello had become a diva in every sense of the word, and he liked it.

The world he lived in now was a far cry from his childhood when he had attended the Wammy Academy for Musically Gifted Youths. In this world, _his _world, he was the best. Not second after some piano-playing albino "prodigy" as he had so often heard Near be referred to. At Wammys he'd so often find himself second to Near. His music wasn't "orthodox" or "mainstream" Mr Roger would always say. Mello would always be the follow up act or the crowd-warmer. Never the head-liner. Never the star.

Not anymore.

In his world he caught people's attention and he kept it all for himself. Besides, it was Mello who had to perform night after night in his sell-out gigs. It was Mello who wouldn't stop moving on the stage until he'd sang the very last note. It was Mello who wrote the songs that had captured the minds of so many people across the world. He deserved to keep some of the glory.

As Mello allowed people to fuss over him, taking off his make-up and microphone, his manger came over beaming from ear to ear.

"Mello! That was fantastic! Listen babe, you got two more gigs to finish your tour and then it's time for a rest, 'kay? I'll book you into you're favourite spa for two weeks, we don't want you losing that pretty little voice of yours." Rod was quickly on the phone and barking some orders at the person at the other end. Mello rolled his eyes. He disliked Rod immensely but he was a manger who got things done and that was all Mello needed.

After having got changed and signing many autographs (Something Mello never tired of) he was in his limousine that had been waiting outside the building for him. It quickly drove to the hotel Mello had been staying in. Mello did own an apartment nearby but Rod had decided that he had to stay close at hand in case anything happened. Mello, however, didn't mind. Staying in a hotel was far more glamorous and he liked the breakfast they served there.

-

Outside the Apollo a man sat in his car with the window down, smoking a cigarette. The show had been quite magnificent and Mello had certainly sung beautifully. Taking another drag of the white stick between his fingers the man smirked. _Best go congratulate him myself, _he decided as he through the finished cigarette out of the window, turned the ignition in the car and sped toward the hotel he knew Mello would be staying in.

* * *

Ugh, how was it? Good, bad, awful, fabulous?! I'd like to know! This is my first fic i'm putting up here so it would be nice to have some encouragement!

On another note: This came to me whilst reading 'Limelight'. When Mello steps out of the car he looks like a rockstar/diva and i wanted to do somthing along those lines. This will turn into MattXMello (Coz i love that pairing so much) but there was VERY little Matt in this. Sorry!


	2. And Making Fake Passes

Of Roses and Smoke -

Mello was greeted at the hotel by his full entourage and another huge group of fans. After yet more autographs he was directed by the flow of people into the bar which Rod had managed to privately hire. Not that that would be terribly difficult. After all, Mello was a superstar and hotels like this were practically tripping over themselves to assist him whatever way possible.

A drink was pushed into his hand and Mello downed it in a couple of mouthfuls, not caring for what it was or who had given it to him.

_Vodka and Coke_, he thought with a grimace. Probably not the best thing for him to be drinking after straining his voice during that last song. Setting aside the empty glass, Mello sat at the bar and surveyed the room with a trained eye. Half of the people milling around the room he had never met or remembered meeting briefly. The other half consisted of roadies, his entourage and the backing band. There was no one he wanted to talk to, nobody _interesting _enough to hold his attention. However he had to stay, at least for a while and make an impression. Besides Mello had never been one to walk away from a party. It was just he was so tired from keeping a whole gig going single-handedly and all he really wanted to do was get to his hotel room, have a shower and fall asleep with a chocolate bar in hand.

_I'__ll stay for an hour or so, _he decided _then I'll sneak upstairs. They won't miss me._ He glanced over to Rod who had his each arm draped over one of Mello's groupies and was obviously in the middle of telling some "hilarious" story.

_Just one more hour_he reminded himself and steeled himself for an onslaught of ass-kissing and compliments as he waded through the crowd, trying to remember names and jobs of various people.

-

Matt had to park his car a short walk from the hotel, but it was hardly a problem. He grabbed his fake ID and access pass from the glove compartment and started the short walk to the hotel.

The hotel Mello had chosen to stay was expensive and exclusive but it didn't look extravagant enough for the blonde, Matt thought. The plain concrete and glass exterior made it look like every other building in the city. There was nothing special about it, nothing that screamed "Hey! Look at me! I'm better then you and don't you all know it!" That's why Matt didn't think that the hotel was the right place for Mello at all. Mello was a born showman. Even when Matt first saw him at Wammys he knew he'd make it in the cut-throat world of music. Mello could catch an audience's attention and hold it. He could make a person hum one of his songs for the rest of the day. A total contrast to Matt.

Matt didn't look like anything special. Granted, many people had told him he was good-looking, but he didn't ooze with charisma and stage-presence. He had fantastic guitar playing skills. Many of the tutors at Wammys had compared him to Hendrix and Page, but they also told him that if he weren't so laid-back and actually put some effort into his stage performance he could easily surpass Mello or even Near. But Matt wasn't interested in fame and glory. He played the guitar for leisure and relaxation. He didn't want somebody forcing songs out of him at break-neck speed just so he could make a little money. Instead Matt programmed computers by day and played at the bar on the corner from his house every week day at 6ish. He found that that way he could share his passion for music with people who wished to listen, rather the force it on them through every marketing ploy ever developed.

As Matt reached the doors of the hotel a large security guard blocked his path.

"'Cuse me." Matt held up the fake pass he had hung around his neck on a lanyard.

"Oh right, sorry sir." The man stepped aside and let Matt through without another word. Confidently striding up to the reception desk, Matt allowed his most charming side to shine through and smiled at the receptionist. She was pretty but not really his type, Matt assessed.

"Hey, I was just wondering if you could get me the spare key to Mello's room. He's managed to lose his. Again." He shook his head and sighed "Always asking me to do these damn errands" he added.

"Um, yes that shouldn't be a problem Mr…?"

"Sharpe. I'm his therapist. He can be a little aggressive sometimes." Matt confidently adlibbed.

"Well, he does seem a little angry in his songs…" the receptionist nodded wisely whilst handing over the electronic card key. Matt made a metal note to keep it and see if he could replicate it at home.

"You have no idea. Thank you." Matt began to confidently walk towards the elevator.

"Wait a minute!" the receptionist shouted from across the lobby.

_Damn! No just stay focused…_ "Yes?"

"Could you get me his autograph? It's just staff aren't allowed to ask. Staff policy and stuff…"

Matt couldn't help but break into a victory smile. "I'll see what I can do." He answered before practically running to the elevator.


	3. Seem To Mean More

**Disclaimer**: Yeah, I own Death Note. That's why I write fan fiction about non-existant pairings instead of making them canon... Oh yeah, I forgot... That's because I **don't** own Death Note... At all. Ever. ... Screw you fate.

Okay, so here's the next chapter! Sorry about the wait, I've had some exams and stuff (I know, excuses!) but I'm back with the chapter 3! So I hope you all enjoy this latest offering of Alternate MattMello-ness! Oh, and if the ending seems a little rushed then it probably is!

* * *

Eventually, Mello managed to leave the bar and made his way through the foyer to the elevator

Matt reached Mellos' room and knocked to check that he wasn't in but not really expecting him to be there. He'd heard a lot of noise coming from the hotel bar and assumed that Mello and his entourage must be having some sort of after-show party. Slipping the key card into the electric lock, the red-head quietly slipped into the room and shut the door behind him.

The room looked very expensive but that was to be expected of Mello. The bedroom was bigger then the whole of Matts' flat and still managed to look crowded, what with the hotel furnishings and Mellos personal stuff (At least five suitcases of belongings. Not including clothes)

Why was he here again? Oh yeah, to remind Mello to keep his God damn promises.

"_Matt I'm leaving."_

"_What?! Why?" The young boy who was hunched over a guitar pushed it to on side and stood facing his blonde roommate. _

"_I've been offered a place at another school."_

"_Where?"_

"…_America"_

"_America!? You kidding me? Shizzix Mell, you can't move to America!"_

"_Shut up Matt, you think I want to? I'd rather stay here, but this is a specialist academy for modern music. They heard one of my demos and I've been offered a scholarship. This is my chance to beat Near." Mello had his fists clenched at his sides and his voice wavered. Matt couldn't see his face as he had turned away but he was sure that Mello was trying to bite back his tears._

"_Hey Mello, I ain't gonna be stopping you." __He pulled him into a hug from behind, "If it's what you want to do then I'll be behind you 100 of the way. That's what mates do, right?"_

_Mello turned around and hugged Matt back._

"_Thanks Matt. I promise to keep in touch, okay?" Mello looked up at Matt and frowned, "Now let go of me before someone sees us and says we're gay."_

"_What? I'm not allowed to hug my best friend?" Matt said with a smile, hugging Mello harder._

"_No, now get off me you fag! I've got to pack!" _

That was around the last time Matt had spoken to Mello. They had been 14 years old and Matt was beginning to wonder if meeting Mello without prior warning was a good idea. The irrational blonde didn't appear to have gotten any better at controlling his emotions since they last met and Matt didn't think he'd be too happy to find Matt in his hotel suite two days before the final performance of his world tour.

How had Matt been expecting Mello to react? Welcome him with wide arms and a beaming smile? Not likely, considering Matt had known Mello for most of his childhood. Now that Matt thought about it did Mello even remember him? Would he remember him? Or was his head so bloated with fame that there was no chance he'd remember a face from his past? Now that _was_ a possibility. Mello had always been so enticed by the glitter and glamour of stardom that, when he was at Wammys, he would stop at nothing to be the best at what he did. Even if it hurt him.

"_Mell, why didn't you tell me that you had a sore throat?" Matt sat at the end of the bed of the infirmary bed. The sheets were a hideous colour of green that seemed designed to hide all stains. "And of all the times, why did it have to be so close to the Summer Concert?" He added._

_The blonde he was talking to glared at him and turned away, pouting. If the situation hadn't been so serious then Matt would have commented on how much Mello looked like a girl. However with the Summer Concert only three days away and Mello having completely lost his voice, this was no laughing matter. _

"_Mell, how did you lose your voice?" Matt asked, "It's not like there's been a virus or anything going around. You weren't over-straining for those top notes__ again or anything, were you?" The guilty look that Mello cast at the bed sheets gave Matt all the answer he need._

"_Oh Mello, you idiot." Matt sighed, rubbing his forehead with his finger and thumb. "Why do you do this to yourself?" He asked this, but already knew the answer._

Matt stomach lurched and again he wondered if this was the best thing to be doing. What if Mello didn't remember him and he got arrested for being a stalker or something? Did Mello have that sort of power? Probably.

God he needed a fag, so Matt headed for the balcony for a quick one and to work out what the hell he was going to do.

-

Eventually, Mello managed to talk his way out of the bar and started walking through the foyer to the elevator. His throat was killing him and he could really go for some Swiss chocolate. The girl at reception was staring at him so he gave her a wink and a winning smile. The reaction he created was something that never failed to amuse him. As her face turned bright red she nervously smiled back and then quickly busied herself with the hotel log book. Mello let a small, hardly noticeable smirk grace his lips. He loved causing a scene, be it publicly or privately, for show or for real. The way people would go from calm and in control to completely flustered if he stamped his foot or snapped his fingers always brought him great entertainment. Mello realised that he was taking advantage of his situation and that it would all come around to bite him on the ass sooner or later, but he really didn't care. Mello had never been one for planning ahead. He hired people to do that sort of thing, that way he could live for the moment. Besides, you only had one life to live, right?

Reaching his hotel room he opened the door and instantly realised the light was on.

_Stupid cleaners,_ he thought with a scowl. _They'd better not add that to my bill._

He headed straight to his bathroom and turned the shower to scalding hot. He needed the steam to sooth his vocal chords.

-

Matt thought he heard the hotel door shut. _Fuck_ was all that was running through his mind. Leaning over to the small gap between the curtains, (Thank God he'd thought to close them) Matt saw Mello walking into his bathroom and shortly afterwards heard the rush of a power shower. Matt smiled at the old habit. He could remember Mello always hogging the shower for up to an hour after a performance. He always said it was good for his voice.

Now, coming out of the bathroom, Mello pulled off his leather vest which revealed an all too familiar scar running from his neck to mid-ribs. Matt winced at the painful memory and pushed it into the farthest corner of his mind. That was a thought for another day. Mellos crimson rosary hung from his neck and shone like a beacon against his chest and Matt watched as he removed it and placed it carefully on the bed-side table. Matt noted that all those years of chocolate had done nothing to Mellos figure.

_Heh, he looks kinda hot… __Whoa, back-up Matty-Boy! You did not just think that! You totally did NOT just think that your childhood friend was hot. Besides he's a guy and you're not gay. _

No, Matt wasn't gay. Matt liked boobs. Period. But Mello did look an awful lot like a woman…

_No! He doesn't! Ugh, Matt what are you doing!? Stop __perving over your life-long MALE best-friend and think of a way out of this mess!_

Matt starting chewing on the cigarette butt and ran through his possible actions. Jumping into the room whilst shouting "Surprise!" was likely to get him punched and thrown out of the hotel. Waiting until Mello was out of the shower and then announcing his presence was also as dangerous since Matt realised his hormones would probably get the better of him. And Matt refused point blank to jump off the balcony. The only option in his mind was to wait until Mello was in the shower and escape that way.

This was not the way Matt had this planned out. True, Matt hadn't planned it out at all but surly there must be somebody up there laughing and putting all these pitfalls in front of him. Negativity aside, Matt also needed to arrange a meeting with Mello, because he sure as Hell wasn't getting an audience tonight.

Suddenly an idea made itself know in Matt's mind. Something that they used to do at Whammy's to annoy each other. Sneaking into the room and writing a quick note, Matt pocketed his prize and made to leave swiftly. However he suddenly remembered the reception and cringed. Spotting a tour T-shirt slung over the back of the couch, Matt grabbed it and made his escape.

_Heh, I feel like a spy or something!_

And with that he quickly shut the door behind him and practically skipped down the hotel landing, humming the 'James Bond' theme tune all the way.

-

Mello took exactly 45 minutes in the shower. It was one of the few things in his life that was regular and always definite. Slinging a towel around his waist, he wandered out of the bathroom and headed towards the bed to get his rosary. He always took it of before a shower and replaced straight away when he was dry. It was just another one of the things that Mello could control. Although he could twist people around his little finger and get anthing he wanted with a quirk of an eyebrow, Mello had very little control over his own life. As such, he made his control over tiny aspects of his life a huge deal. He didn't like people messing with them either.

Turning to the bed-side table Mello went to grab his rosary, but saw nothing. He turned his searching gaze to the floor to see if it had fallen, but it was not there either. As he was on the edge of panic, Mello saw a note on the bed. Grabbing it, he read feverishly.

_'Mello,  
I must talk to you. Meet me at the 'Red Lounge' tommorow at 6 o'clock. I'll be there.  
M2  
Ps: You must come. I have your rosary.'_

Mello scunched the message up in one hand and punched the wall, his face a picture of absolute rage.

_Who. The. Fuck?!_

Okay! That's it for chapter 3! I'll update as soon as the next one is written!


	4. Then They Did Before

**Disclaimer: I don't own Death Note**** or the song 'Wonderwall'.** Screw you fate.

**A/N:** I'm so sorry over how long this has taken me to write! I'm gonna blame school and the fact that I've just had my GCSE exams and lots of fun stuff like that! Also, I've drifted out of the DN fandom, but writing this chapter has made me realise how fun it is to write Mello and Matt again!

* * *

Mello went bat-shit crazy after reading the note. He thundered down the hotel hallway to Rod's room and demanded the CCTV footage be viewed for an intruder to his room.

"What's missing again, babe?" Rod asked once again, still half drunk and rudely awoken by a furious blonde only five minutes ago.

"My rosary!"

"…You're what?"

"Rosary! The red cross that I never take off you total twat!"

"Oh, that pretty beaded necklace? I'll see what we can do about it babe. For now though, go back to bed and get some rest. You sound like you need it."

And he was right. Mello's voice was starting to crack with his non-stop yelling and general loudness. Not a good sign for an international superstar with a tour ending show in a few days.

"You'd better do something about it because you know that if I fired you, half the music business would be on their knees to be my manager!" Mello yelled. His words rang in the other man's ears with an air of finality about them, and Rod knew better then to argue with Mello in 'angry-mode'.

Storming back up to his room, Mello made sure to make enough noise to at least wake a few others up. If he wasn't happy, why should anyone else be?!

Slamming the door to his room and letting out a strangled scream of frustration for good measure, he threw himself on the bed.

Mello now had a choice. He could either let the police do their job and actually give them the note (which he had conveniently 'forgotten' to mention to mention to Rod) or he could go to meet this 'M2' and beat the crap out of him.

Mello knew that the police option would take far too long in his opinion and beating the guy who had broken into his hotel room and stolen one of his most prized possessions sounded very tempting. A malicious grin swept over Mello's face as his mind went over all the various ways to make a grown man cry and slammed his hand onto the light switch next to his bed.

Mello slept that night with an unsettling smile on his face and had a lovely dream about castrating masked intruders.

-

Once he'd got into his car, Matt's hand wandered to his jeans pocket where a certain rosary lay. He started to wonder if taking it had been a good idea after all. Matt sighed at his internal battle. When had any of this been a good idea?! Hell, only an idiot would lie his way into an up-and-coming superstar's hotel room without a set plan, never mind stealing one of said superstar's precious possessions and then leave a note telling him (and the police) where to find him!

The exhausted red-head sighed dramatically and fell back in the car seat. He had a feeling that this wasn't going to go his way.

-

Mello looked up through dark sunglasses at the sign on the brick wall. In swirling cursive read the words "The Red Lounge" and the blonde fought back a smirk. He checked his phone and saw that the time was half past five and shrugged. He'd rather be here, kicking some guys arse then at yet another sound check anyway.

Pulling his coat collar further around his neck to help disguise himself, Mello pushed open the glass door. He was instantly greeted with a wave of warmth and the smell of fresh coffee, an atmosphere Mello had forgotten about, what with his legendary status stopping him from entering public places like this and all.

Despite the calm aura the place gave off, the blonde's hand stopped to rest on the pepper-spray he had in his coat pocket. Luckily for him the so-called 'Lounge' was relatively quite so Mello didn't have to worry too much about rabid fans attacking him but a superstar could never be too careful.

Mello slid into one of the darkened alcoves and sat himself at the table. It didn't take long for a waitress to come over and ask if he wanted anything.

"Just bottled water please."

"Sparkling or still." She asked eager to please.

"Sparkling Alpine." Mello replied as his automatic answer.

"Erm, I don't think we have Alpine water sir… Just Buxton Spring." Mello looked at her over the top of the un-removed sunglasses, giving her a challenging glare that could make a hardened criminal shiver. The girl took a small step back and swallowed hard. After deeming that causing a scene wouldn't help his cause at all, Mello pushed the glasses further up his nose and lent back in his chair.

"I suppose that'll have to do then." Mello huffed. The poor waitress nodded her head quickly and practically ran to get the water.

_No Alpine water? What a common place__. _Mello forgot for a while the reason he had come to the lounge and simply soaked in the atmosphere whilst watching the people in the room. It was a favourite pass time of Mello's and if he hadn't been a singer, he would have loved to have been a physiologist or a detective or something along those lines.

Sat by the window, gazing out into the city traffic was an old man. At first it seemed as though he were some sort of tramp or homeless man, due to his unkempt hair and worn face but when one looked at his clothes in greater detail you could see the remains of a once great business man. A suit that at one time may have been immaculate, hung on his body as simply a means to cover up. A watch was strapped around his wrist out of habit, not necessity.

Across the room, sat at the bar a woman was staring into the bottom of her coffee cup as though looking for answers she knew she'd never find. Her eyes were weighted with a lack of sleep and the lines in her face were too deep set to be the creation of old age only.

A young man, probably about the same age as Mello, came through the door carrying a guitar case with some difficulty. Mello thought he looked as though he carried to problems of the entire world on his shoulders yet he still walked with the promise of something better in the future. The black and white striped top the man wore showed that he wasn't afraid to stand out, he simply chose not to.

As the stranger made his way to the stage, Mello realised that he was the live performer for the night and smirked. What would the man think if he knew that he was entertaining the blonde in more ways then simply singing? Mello could read this guy so well that it was almost as though he were looking at an old friend…

It was that moment the waitress chose to return with his drink and thus shattered Mello's train of thought.

"Here you are, Sir." She forced a smile onto her face but her nerves did not go unnoticed by the blonde. Placing the glass and bottle down swiftly, the waitress moved on to another table without another word.

"Took her long enough." Mello mumbled to nobody in particular and poured himself a drink. After a couple of sips he deemed it decent enough to quench his thirst and for the first time since entering the lounge, noticed how hot he was.

Whilst shrugging off his coat, the star's attention was caught by a shift in the light and the quietening of the whole room en mass.

The young man Mello had been watching was sat on a stool, under the spotlights on a low stage. In his arms he cradled a well worn guitar and was attempting to adjust the height of the microphone stand with one hand whilst stopping the bulky instrument from falling to the ground with the other. It was a movement Mello recognised from his childhood but before he could brood on it any further, the stranger looked up at his audience.

"Hey guys, it's me again," The man obviously worked here often, Mello reasoned, since he didn't bother introducing himself, "and I've been busy this week writing some new stuff but the first one isn't mine. You know how it goes, right?" He smiled softly out at the others in the room, even though Mello knew he'd be suffering from stage blindness.

Then without another word, the red-haired stranger began to strum on his guitar. It was a tune that any self-respecting song artist knew and had a special meaning to the blonde, helping to dredge up memories that had long been lost in the back of his mind.

-

"_Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you,_

_By now you should've somehow realised what you've got to do,_

_I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…"_

-

Matt had spotted Mello as soon as he'd walked into the little place the red head worked at. He stood out like a sore thumb, despite the obvious attempt at remaining 'incognito', as it were.

'_Sunglasses and a long black coat? Come on Mel, you can do better then that…'_

Through his fringe Matt could see the blonde watching him and for a minute Matt wondered if Mello recognised his childhood friend. However, he dismissed the idea almost immediately as in came into his head. The Mello he knew could memorise whole songs in minutes and pick out chords in tunes but had great difficulties in remembering people and placing a name to a face.

Once seated in front of his small yet appreciative audience, Matt cleared his throat and started his set. It was a simple collection of some of his favourite songs that not only brought back some good memories but also helped calm him down for the task ahead.

Matt really wasn't looking forward to confronting Mello. If he knew the blonde well enough, he'd have some sort of weapon or self–defence item in his pocket and that didn't bode well for the guitarist who'd stolen the blonde's rosary.

-

"_Backbeat the word is on the street that the fire in your hear__t is out,_

_I'm sure you've heard it all before but you've never really had a doubt,_

_I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now…"_

-

Mello had begun to tap his gloved fingers in time to the rhythmic strumming. The music was soothing and had some what of a calming effect on the chaos in his mind. This song reminded him of his old school, Wammys, and of all the people he'd left behind.

Two faces stood out to Mello, in amongst the other memories. One was of his rival, Near. His white hair and pale clothing stood out, stark against the dark walls in his mind, lidded eyes carefully watching and observing everything. Mello had spent so long obsessing over the boy that he was easily remembered. He even recalled the little detailed embroidery around the cuffs of his shirts.

The second face was less defined but still retained a shock of red hair and a dizzyingly happy aura around him. What was his name again? Mello hadn't thought about him for years, friends being a luxury he couldn't afford in the music business. The only people Mello had cared about were himself and the competition. It was simply the way that Mello's mind worked and that was how he got by. Yes, he was passionate but only about the music.

The blonde's mind drifted away from his inner thoughts and back to the music being played. This red-haired stranger had an awesome voice, Mello decided.

'_Perfect for singing live accompanied by acoustic guitar. Could sound a little weak in a recording studio…'_

-

"_And all the roads we have to walk along are winding,  
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding,  
There are many things that I would like to say to you,  
I don't know how…"_

-

"_Hey Mel?"_

"_Hmm?" the older boy mumbled around his chocolate bar._

"_What do you want out of your music career?" Matt's thumbs tapped at the hand-held on autopilot whilst the boy glanced at his friend._

"_To do better then Near."_

_Matt made a face and tried again. __"No Mel! I mean after that! What do you want for yourself?"_

"_God Matt, you're getting a little deep and meaningful aren't ya? I mean, you sound like Miss Linda during one of our 'Self Belief' sessions!" Mello grinned at Matt, roles reversing and for once the blonde being the one who wouldn't take anything seriously._

_Matt sighed and turned his attention to his game for a moment before pausing it and throwing the device onto the pillow at the head of his bed._

"_Well personally, I want to be able to make enough money so that I can play my guitar for fun rather then need and to be able to buy any videogame I want!" Matt crossed his legs and lent forward, resting his face in the palm of his hand.__ He stared expectantly at the boy across the room._

_Mello's gaze shifted from the ceiling to the red-head's face and made a small noise of recognition__._

_A silence stretched out between the two friends, a gulf that one of them needed to brave before the conversation could end. Matt was just about to admit defeat when the blonde spoke up._

"_Roses. I want a ton of roses in every colour and size available. I'd have more then anybody else, ever. Even Near."_

"_Huh, you like roses, Mel?"_

_The blonde was silent for a moment before smiling sadly and mumbling __"Mum used to have a rose garden."_

-

"_Because maybe,  
You're gonna be the one who saves me ?  
And after all,  
You're my wonderwall…"_

-

Matt's voice carried through the air. He closed his eyes gently and he felt the whole room just disappear. I was just him and his guitar, no one else mattered. Each note was both planned and spontaneous, soft yet defined, remembered but forgotten all at the same time.

He knew that people came to the small bar to listen to his music and although this wasn't something he had written, the song was always well received by his audience. Matt assumed it was because he put passion into what he sang. He wasn't like those celebrities who would sing anything that was 'in vogue' just to gain popularity. No, Matt only ever sang songs that he connected to, pieces with lyrics that moved him. It was the best way to bring out the true potential in his voice.

A smile graced his face. That was something Mr Roger had told him a long time ago.

-

Something about this man confused Mello but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. He'd seen him before but no matter how hard the blonde thought, he couldn't quite work out where. He defiantly hadn't been at one of his album recordings and he'd never been part of his music crew on tour; that much he was sure of.

Growing impatient, Mello waved at the waitress to gain her attention and beckoned her over.

"Who is that guy? He didn't say when he introduced himself."

"Oh, that's Matt. Dead nice bloke, great voice." She answered carefully, avoiding looking at his face.

Mello nodded and the waitress took her leave, thankful to have avoided another death glare.

'_Matt… Where have I heard that name before…__? Mind you, it's hardly uncommon.' _He took another look at the man on stage. _'Tall, lanky, red hair and a goofy grin…' _He thought again, this time listening to the words and the sound of the man's voice. The way he rolled his 'r' and put emphasis on certain words. He put everything together and soon a clear image in his head was forming.

'_Wait…! Matt at Wamm- …Oh shit, no way.'_

* * *

**A/N:** I'm sorry. It really wasn't worth the wait and I realise that… but I had great fun writing it!

Oh, and by the way… Mello and Matt aren't super smart in this. They were trained to be musicians rather the next L, so I'm making Mello a little 'slow'. He still manipulating, cunning and brash but slow on the uptake sometimes… Sorry, I know it's very out of character but I realise I'm butchering him! It's not just crappy writing!


End file.
